Who's Chyna?
by randxgirl
Summary: My head snaps up, temporarily separating my eyes from my phone to direct my attention to the kid who threw out the question in the middle of cake-slicing and ice cream-scooping.


**Who's Chyna?**

_Disclaimer: I own noone._

_A/N: This idea came to me the weekend after they announced that Ultimate Warrior will be inducted into the Hall of Fame this year (around mid-January). This story is more of a "what if?" scenario._

_Paul's P.O.V._

Leading extremely busy day-to-day lives, the Mcmahon Family rarely has time to just sit down, enjoy good food and good company, without having to care about work even for just a few hours. Hence, when my wife told me that her parents had invited all of us for a mini-get together lunch at their place, I immediately agreed. We haven't seen Shane and his family since the holidays anyway, albeit back-to-back birthday celebrations on their end. I think we're still not in the good books of his youngest who just turned four a little over a week ago for missing out on his birthday. We had Raw that day, and that weekend was Royal Rumble. It would be good to not only catch up with everybody, especially that Shane is keeping busy and doing so well with his company, but to get back on the boy's good books. So far, lunch has been uneventful though; apart from the usual banter

among siblings—Shane and Stephanie included—and an update on the respective lives of each of the 6 kids, Shane imitating his grandmother trying to reprimand Vince for working too hard was probably the most noteworthy event by far.

"Mom, who's Chyna?"

My head snaps up, temporarily separating my eyes from my phone where I'm currently engaged in a text conversation with my sister, to direct my attention to the kid who threw out the question in the middle of cake-slicing and ice cream-scooping. If lunch was uneventful, dessert's starting to sound interesting. _Too interesting for my liking._

The voice, albeit still early to be categorized as a man's voice, was definitely too deep to be a girl's. Did I just hear Declan ask what I think I heard him ask? "Thank God.", I mutter to myself. At least I'm sure it wasn't MY kid who asked and it wasn't MY wife being asked. Unsurprisingly though, I find that I'm not the only ADULT skeptically staring back at the poor little boy, who's probably wondering what he had done wrong to merit such looks. I'm pretty sure we all want a clarification if he actually MEANS what we THINK he means.

"Chyna? Which Chyna?"

Thankfully, Marissa lifted this invisible burden that was put on all of our shoulders. I'm not gonna judge her for trying to play dumb, if she is playing dumb. Or probably innocent, whichever is more appropriate. I guess we all would've done the same thing if we were on the receiving end of such question. Plus, how many Chyna's are there anyway? It is NOT zero possibility that he could be referring to a different person. If I remember correctly, Kim Kardashian's new best friend is named Chyna, too. Or at least has "Chyna" in her name. He COULD be referring to her, right?

"Gabriella said that her brother said that Chyna needs to be inducted into the Hall of Fame." The kid answers with conviction, as if he was declaring a fact. So, it's HER. THE VERY SAME HER. From the very corner of my eye, I saw Shane, who's seated at my left, smirk subtly in my direction as if waiting for me to react to the question. Boy, am I so tempted to strangle him, if not only for the kids surrounding the table. And for a split second, I swear I felt my wife stiffen beside me at the confirmation of the identity of the "Chyna" in question. I place my hand on her thigh to try to calm her down, to tell her that everything about this conversation was going to be okay. But that didn't have to last long as she has seemed to recover quickly and throws back another question. "Who's Gabriella?"

I'm not sure whether Steph is trying to divert the conversation elsewhere or she was just plain curious. Honestly though, I, too, am curious about the identity of the new girl in question. The boy's in third grade, and surprisingly, it's the first time this school year that I've heard him utter a girl's name at the dinner table. Not that we've had lots of lunches or dinners together but still- The kid's a McMahon; he should be mentioning girls' names left and right to begin with. Although last I heard, he's avoiding girls altogether for some reason. He must be in THAT stage.

"His girlfriend!" came a voice from the far end of the table, unmistakably Declan's younger brother, Kenyon's. I then realize that ratting out a sibling isn't a trait exclusively practiced by my side of the family, but seems to be a natural thing for all. I did that a lot to my sister when we were younger, telling mom things she planned to do before she even got to do them and she'll eventually get reprimanded before even getting to do anything, so I thought all of my girls got it from me when they would tell on each other whenever someone did something wrong. But rest assured, when one of them got into trouble, the other two would be the first in line to defend their sister. Shane's kids must be the same. As Shawn said in his Hall of Fame speech years prior, brothers "may stab each other in the back but can't nobody else do it."

"You have a girlfriend?" came another voice across Kenyon. This one was more high-pitched and sounded… interrogatory rather than curious.

THAT, I'M SURE OF, belongs to a daughter of mine, the strictest of them all, Aurora. Yes, when it comes to their cousins, they're not just protective. They're OVER protective. They probably felt they had that right after realizing the boys were the same to them, if not even more. When Stephanie keeps saying that Shane was "super overprotective" of her growing up, I could imagine it to be how I was with my own sister when we were growing up, only that I was the younger sibling. But having seen first hand how Shane's kids would sometimes even end up in fights whenever they and their cousins would go out and play together because some guy was supposedly bullying at least one of the girls, I could tell you, they took "super overprotective" to a whole new level. And as the father of the girls, I can say that I'm very, very pleased. Of course you can't tell that to the kid when he comes home having punched or kicked another guy in the shin because he defended his cousin, but I didn't have a son, and even if we enrolled the girls to self-defense class, it brings me peace to know that there will be someone who'd protect my girls like I would whenever I can't.

"She's NOT my girlfriend."

"Then who is she?"

"She's my classmate." Oh, she didn't even reach the "friend level". I have no idea how kids date anymore these days what with all technology platforms available but I guess, "classmate" is STILL "just classmate" and nothing else.

"So who's Chyna?" This time, it was another one of my girls who asked, diverting the conversation back to the original topic at hand. Out of the three princesses, people say it's Murphy who resembles me most. That's probably why it affected me more that she had to be the daughter to ask again. How do you explain to your daughter who someone who's an ex-girlfriend for years and who has said not so nice stuff about you and your family for the past years? I don't know if I'm supposed to let out a "safe" comment at the very least; I mean, I could tell them how she used to be part of DX, how she was the first woman to enter the Royal Rumble, how she was the first female to hold a male-designated title in the Intercontinental Championship, how…

"She used to work with Daddy in DX."

Six adults who all knew Chyna, yet it's MY WIFE who decides to answer. Well at least someone did. It could be the start of a mini-session of "20 Questions", and we MIGHT open a can of worms along the way, but I think it's best we do not lie to the kids. We may not tell them everything, but we shouldn't lie at all.

"DX? With Uncle Shawn?"

Among the six kids, Declan was most familiar with DX, at least with its rebirth in 2006. Kenyon and Aurora were only born that year, and Vaughn and Rogan just know about DX from chanced upon clips they see on TV or the Internet. Not that Declan recalls anything clearly about it. God, as the kid's uncle and grandfather, which makes me his second father, I sure hope not.

"Yes, with Uncle Shawn."

"So Daddy and her were friends?" Why… why does it always have to be HER who asks the dangerous questions? One day, Murphy Claire is gonna be the death of me.

"Oh heck yeah!" came a teasing assurance from my left. Shane Mcmahon would absolutely make the most out of any opportunity that would get me in hot water. Not that he hates me, at least I hope not. It's just how our "brotherhood" works. All I could do was glare at him. He didn't seem to be intimidated at all though. I think he knows his dad WILL kill me if I end up killing him somehow.

"Daddy, d'you think she can be in the Hall Of Fame? What did she do?" Over the course of this conversation, I realized that I haven't spoken at all and have just resorted to keeping my thoughts to myself, in my head. Apart from the assuring hand to my wife's thigh and the 2 supposedly death glares I sent her brother, I have seemed to not be involved at all about the topic. I could escape this one without complications but NO, Murphy… that same little girl who's all me, just had to ask ME specifically.

"Uh…" I pause, look around the table and see 8 different pairs of eyes staring back at me, all waiting for what I have to say. While Vaughn's and Rogan's attention were more focused on dessert, 4 innocent pairs of eyes are curious: Declan's, Kenyon's, Aurora's and Murphy's; Linda's and Marissa's are the 2 sympathetic ones, as if they knew about all the apprehension going on inside my head; 1 pair is challenging: Vince's, as if he's waiting for me to say something wrong that'll hurt his daughter then he'll send me to the executioner, who shall seal my fate immediately; another pair's teasing, but I didn't expect anything else from Shane. Then there's that last pair which seemed to find cake more interesting than me—Stephanie's.

I grab her left hand from under the table and just hold it while I continue: "She… was my… manager, she helped in the crazy things we did in DX, she was a two-time Intercontinental Champion, an undefeated Woman's Champion, the first female to join the Royal Rumble…"

"So do you think she deserves to be in the Hall of Fame?" This time, the look Vince gives me is the type he'd give me during meetings when he'd challenge me to speak my mind regarding a storyline or whom to call up from developmental: that look that tells me to just be honest with him.

This time, it was my turn to be serious. Looking Vince straight into the eye, with my hand still holding Steph's, I answered.

"Based solely on her accomplishments, yes."

Vince simply nodded. With a look to my right, I find Stephanie staring and poking through her cake rather than eating it. I think I know exactly what's going on. I'm not sure though how many of the rest of the adults around the table know the same thing and I don't care either. I squeeze her hand, lean in and place a kiss on her cheek, right in front of her family.

_Stephanie's P.O.V._

"I'm not going to ask if you're okay 'cause it's obvious you're not, so I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk."

I don't know why I even hoped for one second that noone will bring up my sudden change in behavior during dessert when I'm 101 percent sure that someone's bound to notice and ask. Who was I trying to kid anyway. Almost 28 years of friendship formed with her, Marissa's practically more like a sister to me than just a sister-in-law. I'm sure that she volunteering to do the dishes with me so "the boys, Gamma and Pop could go play with the kids" had an underlying motive.

I stare at her and shake my head as if trying to tell her there's nothing to talk about. What am I supposed to say anyway? I'm not even sure why I acted the way I did. It just seemed like the natural thing to do—to stay silent, pretend like I wasn't interested and divert my attention elsewhere. Her response to me was a stare right back, with one eyebrow raised, followed by a shake of her own head as well as if to mimick me. But I know her too well. She's not mimicking me; she's mocking me. She's challenging me to prove to the both of us there's really nothing to talk about.

And as usual, I can't get past her firm stance, and she always gets to me. "What do you want me to say?" I sigh defeatedly.

"Anything you want to say." It's as simple as that but I know that's a loaded reply. Marissa always had the tendency to speak in "riddles" when she's trying to get you to do something but doesn't want to seem like she's forcing you to do it. And I love her for it.

Taking another deep breath, I drop the cutlery I was wiping dry, wipe my hands with the towel before setting the cloth down on the countertop. I push myself up the counter, find my "spot" and set myself in an Indian like pose. If I'm gonna do this, I may as well get comfortable. Letting out another sigh, I looked down and toyed with my hands, particularly, the left hand ring finger, where a 6'4" blonde first slipped my wedding band on more than a decade ago.

"I guess it just felt weird hearing him talk about her like that. We haven't talked about her at all since we got married, you know? Even after all the shit she let out in public—TV, radio, print… I mean, people would bring her name up and tell us what she said in this and that interview and ask us for comments and we never really answered them properly. I think after all the fights we've had about her before we got married, I wanted to make sure she'll be the last thing we ever fought about."

After my revelation, I hear the sound of water being stopped. I look up and see Marissa wiping her hands dry with the same cloth I left on the counter. When my eyes met hers, I was relieved to see dark brown orbs looking back at me free of judgment nor mockery nor sympathy. She simply listened to what I had to say, and didn't judge me for any of it. This is the same reason why I've always ran to her immediately during the roughest times when Paul and I first started going out. Everything was just a mess—with all the backstabbing against him, my dad giving us his blessing only to take it away, my family being against the relationship because it was just taboo and you don't mix business with personal. Add to those an on-again-off-again ex-

girlfriend who saw to it that she told everybody who would listen how I stole her man—supposedly her ex-fiance, how Paul would end up as our family's yes-man and my bitch, how he's just using my family for personal gain. When the news would reach me about whatever story she told the world during whatever latest interview, I pretended like I didn't care. I put on this façade that I wasn't affected at all, up until the cameras are off and the doors closed when Paul and I would eventually end up in an argument. The outcome of every argument is a frustrated or angry me on the phone with my sister-in-law, regardless of time, date and location, with the first part just having me vent, rant or lash out, then the second part with just me in tears. That's how she knew everything. She was literally the first on my speed dial for years since I had a phone. Of course, that was up until I got engaged to be married.

"I'm trying not to be jealous, I swear…" I cry out in frustration after that pause after my confession. There. I said it. I was… JEALOUS. I don't know why I'm emotional. Was I upset that my husband was speaking positively about an ex-girlfriend who has said nothing good about him, us and my family for more than a decade or was I upset because I STILL got jealous about it? The last time I felt like this, I was pregnant with Vaughn. And the last time before that was when I was pregnant with Murphy. Those were special cases as hormones are just a bitch during pregnancy.

I feel hands grip mine and hear Marissa speak softly, comfortingly. "I know…" She let out a smile, a mixture of understanding, sympathy and pride. Sure, she never had to deal with any of her husband's ex-girlfriends because to this day, my brother claims that Marissa was his first and only girlfriend but I'm sure that as a woman, she understands how I felt. She was never the jealous type—not even when big-boobs blondie and big-butt redhead were practically gyrating at the same time with Shane sandwiched in between while we were in a bar during a common friend's party which the three of us attended almost two decades ago. She sat there with me laughing at how the girls made themselves look cheap when Shane ignored them both while I sat there disgusted by it all and was ready to trod over, grab both girls by the hair then strangle them both.

At the same time, she must have been proud of how much I've changed over the years. She was already in the picture since the very first day I had a love life. In fact, there was even a time I was jealous of her and we "fought" over a guy. Back when I was just 11, and she 14, I had a crush on one of our neighbors who just moved in. He was a bit older—3 years, 8 months and 3 days to be exact, a bit taller—estimated 3 inches taller, with grey eyes, light brown hair that would turn gold when exposed to the sun and defined shoulders, which were a result of his passion for swimming. He was kinda snobbish (back then we called it as "reserved"), which kept me and other girls intrigued, thinking that the mysterious vibe he had was such a "turn-on". Funnily enough, it was public knowledge that he had a crush on Marissa, of all people! Unfortunately for him, he couldn't do anything about it anymore because she and my brother were already going steady. I asked Rissa to befriend the guy and introduce me to him so he and I could be friends but that never developed into anything, and I stubbornly somehow blamed her for it! Of course that "fight" didn't last long and we were lucky we never had to fight about a guy ever again. Last we heard, no girl in the neighborhood or any close vicinity ever caught the guy's interest the same way Marissa did, up until he moved out to college.

And while I remained to be the jealous type the following years after, I dealt with it more logically and tried to control the feeling as much as I could as years went by. Arguments stemming from jealousy gradually decreased with each ex-boyfriend (not that there were a lot) overtime up until I met Paul, when we had to deal with a lot of shit coming from a lot of people, mostly his ex-girlfriend. Nonetheless, for those times I felt jealous, insecure, frustrated, angry or all of the above, Marissa was always my first go-to. Fortunately for me, she has yet to wake up from her dream and is still married to my brother all these years after.

I jump a bit in surprise when I heard a knock on the door. Marissa let go of my hands, avoiding any suspicion from whoever was on the other side of the door. The door opens even before any of us girls had the chance to speak to allow them entry. My brother walks in, but not far behind was my husband. It's the first time since dessert that his eyes have met mine and the look of concern on his face cannot be mistaken.

_Paul's P.O.V._

"The kids have reached a consensus. We're all staying the night. Hence, we have to go shop for dinner. You, ladies, need anything?"

I let Shane do the talking to let them know why we're here. My attention's focused mostly on Stephanie. She looks a little pale, her big blue eyes seem to hold unshed tears and she seems a little upset. At least she's no longer avoiding looking at me now as she was staring right at me.

"Can we come?" Stephanie may be replying to Shane but seemed to be asking, somehow even pleading, for my permission as she's only focused on me. Her voice was soft, almost cracking, and I was fighting the urge to walk across the room and pull her in a hug.

Shane seems like in a teasing mood today. "Those dishes are not going to dry themselves, you know?" All of our eyes drifted to the stacked dishes, cups and utensils that have obviously been washed but have yet to be dried. Something must have happened for them to not yet be done washing and drying in an hour. Sure, this is not the first time they've locked themselves in a room for more than an hour after they were assigned a task but all those other times, we'd catch them all done and just talking (more like gossiping). The sight of a stack of washed yet still-to-be dried dishes is new.

"And you, boys', combined grocery shopping skills is mediocre so how about you help dry the dishes and let Steph go instead?" For the more than a decade I've known Marissa—she used to handle our PR stuff back in the Attitude Era, I know her enough to understand that there must be an underlying motive behind that suggestion. She has mastered getting something done without explicitly stating it. That's how she got things done for us years back.

"Drive to the grocery store and shop or stay here and spend private time with my beautiful wife? Gee, which shall I pick?!" For the third time in less than three hours, I'm about ready to choke Shane. This time, it's for stalling. He just has a knack for prolonging my agony.

A flying washcloth caught my eye as Steph tossed the material towards her brother's direction. Steph climbs off the counter, gives Marissa a hug that seemed to me to be a little tighter than usual, walk towards me to entwine her fingers with mine. "Do you guys want anything?" She called back.

Marissa shook her head, while Shane muttered something inaudible while starting to dry the cups. For someone who has displayed no fear inside the ring, he's a push-over in real life. But I couldn't blame him. Any married guy would be. I may as well plead guilty to this. We leave the kitchen hand-in-hand and I feel the tension from dessert time disappear. Hopefully, I can get her to open up during the drive.

_Stephanie's P.O.V._

"Are you okay? You look pale…" For someone nicknamed the Cerebral Assassin, it's tingling to the spine to hear Paul's voice in a concerned tone. Those were his immediate words once the kitchen door closed and we were the only ones in the hallway, making our way out to the garage.

I smile at him shyly while nodding my head in affirmation. Being able to look him in the eyes again is proof that I'm more than okay. I catch him looking right back at me with those warm, affectionate, loving pair of hazel brown eyes. His facial expression was soft. I must be blushing as I can feel the heat rushing to my face, which is good—at least that'll add color to my face. There's just something in the way Paul looks at me that makes me blush ALL the time and makes me melt a little bit more inside. Fourteen years together, fourteen years in love, fourteen years and he is still able to make me as giddy as a pre-teen crushing on a next-door neighbor for the very first time. All the negative emotions I had earlier just seemed to suddenly disappear into thin air. Even with no words, I am told how much I'm loved regardless of how many ex-girlfriends he praises in front of my family.

He placed a kiss on my forehead while letting go of my hand only to wrap his around my shoulders. I rest my head on his while we continue to walk out of the house. I can't promise to never be jealous again, but I'd definitely deal with it so much better each time.

"You know," I began. This time, my tone is more upbeat. I can talk about her in a light-hearted manner, right? WE can talk about her casually, right? No malice, no hard feelings, nothing. "If Joanie gets inducted, I'd send her a Gucci bag as a gift."

"Firstly, it's Chyna.", Paul reminds me. Oh, right. She even filed a case to get dibs on that name. And she won. How could I forget. "Secondly, why?" I am not sure if Paul thinks I'm crazy or is just curious.

"She likes it." I tell him simply.

"And how would you know?"

"You know what the second fastest way for news to spread after Twitter is?", I ask rhetorically, although I guess my tone sounded more teasing. A conversation with my technologically-challenged husband with a mention of Twitter. We have indeed come a long way.

"Your family?!" He shot back. It's an inside joke between us as a couple. You can never keep anything from my family a secret. Maybe for a while you can, but eventually, every one of them is gonna know. How and when won't even matter.

"Yours. Lynn texted me that she tweeted about it." A key to our relationship is how our respective families have come to accept each other and we're now just one big family. His sister Lynn maybe my sister-in-law, but just like Marissa, we prefer to drop the "in-law" part of the title.

"And why does Lynn even go through her Twitter page?"

"She just wants to see if she's said anything about you, us. Your sister loves you that much." We're both lucky that way. We were both the younger sibling, and though we both agree that older brothers and sisters would sometimes suck, generally, we wouldn't trade our older siblings for anyone else.

"What else did she find out then?"

"Apparently, she loves you for what you've done in the ring and the industry, but not in the romantic way anymore."

I hear silence. Maybe that was too much information for him to take in. Or he just doesn't know what to say. I continue with more. "And she never thought you'll ever cut your hair."

He looked at me funnily. A simple joy I have and am proud of with our relationship is how we can switch from serious conversation to funny or random in a split second.

"And… Shane's her favorite Mcmahon. She loves Rissa, too." I finish off. Yes, Lynn surely was on a Chyna Twitter page-watch for a while.

"You know… if your dad decides to take her in for the Hall of Fame, we could get Shane to fly to Japan and talk to her instead." He suggested with eyes twinkling.

With a wink, I agree in jest. "I'll book that flight myself."

That will be the day hell freezes over.


End file.
